


Coffeehouse Cupid

by Jaseraie



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, One Shot, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-04 03:19:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaseraie/pseuds/Jaseraie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Hello. My name is Patrick Stump. I am 19 years old. I’m a college student. I also work at The Jittery Brew, a coffee shop just outside of Chicago. However, I’m not a Barista."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coffeehouse Cupid

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ennah1887](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ennah1887/gifts).



> This story takes place in present day, but the guys are intended to look approximately like the did around TTTYG era.
> 
> Also, this story has the mildest of references to something sexual. Like, if you squint and look really hard under a microscope, you'll see it. Just thought I'd warn those of you who are really sensitive to any sexual references at all. :)
> 
> This work was inspired by, and loosely based on, the book The Espressologist by Kristina Springer (a really awesome book. if you haven't read it, you should check it out.). 
> 
> The idea for writing this story came from the wonderful Ennah1887. I hope you enjoy it and it lives up to your expectations. Sorry it took so long to get this posted.

     Hello. My name is Patrick Stump. I am 19 years old. I’m a college student. I also work at The Jittery Brew, a coffee shop just outside of Chicago. However, I’m not a Barista. Ok, sometimes I am. Well, most of the time I am. But that’s not what my problem stemmed from. Once a week, I am what I call a Coffee Cupid. Let me give you a quick explanation and background.

     I’ve been working at The Jittery Brew for almost two years. Nine months ago, I realized that I could almost always correctly guess what a person was going to order. Like, a person just _looked_ like, say, a large double shot iced mocha with two shots of caramel and extra whip, or, say, a small black coffee. So I started jotting down notes on people and their orders.

                    ** black coffee**  
                     easy-going, fairly simple. A little dull; could use some excitement in their life.

     Now, I have to admit, that entry started out as a description of me. But hey, the three other people who’ve come in for a plain black coffee are a lot like I am, even if they’ve all been 40+ year old men. So you see? It works.

     About eight months ago, my boss, Ryan Ross, figured out what I was doing. I thought for sure he was going to fire me. Instead, he used me as a promotional tool. It was October. So in the spirit of Halloween, Ryan advertised that once a week during the month there would be a coffee psychic in the store. Every Wednesday from 4-8 p.m. during October, Ryan had me dress up like a gypsy fortune teller and sat me behind a small round table with a gazing ball on top of it. The customer would write down their drink order on a slip of paper. I would then predict what they chose. If I was wrong, they got their drink for free. Our sales in October skyrocketed, and we only handed out 18 free drinks out of hundreds of orders. Ryan was very impressed, and he gave me a raise. This is a huge deal; Ryan’s a bit of a tight ass when it comes to money.

     During the promotion in October, I saw several people couple up while waiting in line or hanging around the store. Right away I could tell that some of them would fail, but I knew several would be good together. Just like I knew certain people looked like a certain drink, I realized that certain coffees went really well together, some didn’t. So when a few of my friends started complaining about not having dates, I decided to see if matchmaking via coffee really worked.

     First, I tried it out with one of my best friends, and fellow barista, Joe Trohman. A beautiful girl came in to the shop and ordered an extra-quirky drink: an iced vanilla latte with a shot of caramel on the bottom, whipped in the middle, and a shot of chocolate on the top. It sounded like something a stoner would create. After it was made, I told Joe to take his break and take the coffee over to the pretty girl. Joe and Marie have been exclusive since right before Joe’s break was over.

     Next, I tried it out on my buddy, Andrew John Hurley. Hurley was a bit more difficult to match; he’s a bisexual, straight edge vegan. One day a guy came in and asked for a Soy Vanilla Rooibos Tea Latte. It was vegan friendly _and_ daring, just like Hurley. I introduced them right away. Hurley and Matt are now inseparable.

     Shortly after Hurley and Matt got together, this hyperactive ball of energy that goes by the name Brendon Urie came into the store and ordered our most sugar-filled drink, then proceeded to yammer on and on (at no one in particular) about how amazing Frank Sinatra and The Beatles were, and how he didn’t want to live in a world where uncreative Canadians were ruling the airwaves. I’d heard enough; I introduced him to our extra strong, dark roast with one cream drinking manager. It worked. Ryan has been happy and cheerful ever since the two of them got together. At that point I knew I could play matchmaker based on drinks. However, I’ve never liked the name matchmaker. So I came up with the name Coffee Cupid. Ryan came up with another gimmicky promo opportunity.

     February rolled around, and I was the Coffee Cupid once a week throughout the month. “Come in for the coffee, stay for the love connection.” I typed up all my coffee notes on my computer, then I set up a spreadsheet so I could organize all the information I had the customers jot down on a sheet of paper. I still talked with each individual face-to-face to get an idea of what he or she was like. But it was easier for them to have certain things written down before hand: their name (for correct spelling), email address (again, for correctness), phone number (to be exchanged only with their match), favorite drink, age, job/school level, a hobby, an interesting piece of information about themselves, and gender preference for matches (for my eyes only). Once I had all the data collected, I went to work. I was able to make several on the spot matches. Most of the matches came later though. I met hundreds of people during in February. I brought 58 couples together; 49 are still together and send me regular updates/thank you notes. The nine couples who didn’t stay together now have new best friends. So it all worked out in the end.

     The ~~gimmick~~ promotion worked so well that I got another small raise, as well as a promotion. Now, once a week I am the Coffee Cupid at The Jittery Brew. I’ve been able to make many more matches in the last two months since I have a plethora of people in my system. I love helping people find love even though I, myself, am single. But I’m pretty much happy this way; I’m a college student, I barely have time for school and this job, let alone a relationship.

     The worst part about being the Coffee Cupid is having people who come in every week, or every other week, waiting for me to match them with someone. I mean, I usually get around to it, but some have taken over a month to find matches for. But you know what I’ve found? The ones who take the longest to for me to match up end up being the most compatible. I got an email from one of those couples, Jack and Alex, who went down to Vegas and eloped just three weeks after I matched them. But, hey, what else would you expect from two, ten-shot espresso drinkers?

     Now that you understand my situation a bit better, I’ll clue you in to my current predicament. There’s this one guy that’s been coming in at least once a week since the October promotion, twice since February. He’s always here on Cupid night. He hangs around, chats with people, congratulates couples who get matched, and drinks his drink. As a side note, he’s absolutely gorgeous! He has black hair, slanted fringe with red tips that hang over one eye, black eyeliner, mocha-colored skin, tattoos, tight pants, tight shirt, and I’m pretty sure he has his nipples pierced (I’d love a chance to find out for sure, though). He’s not everyone’s taste, but he’s always getting second glances. Every time he leaves, he’s with a different woman.

     The thing is, I have his information, but the card he handed me wasn’t 100% filled out. The most difficult part in matching Pete (that’s his name, Pete Wentz), is that he doesn’t have a favorite drink. I have never seen him order the same drink twice, sometimes it’s coffee, sometimes tea, sometimes it’s soda pop, once, he even ordered a water. I have no idea who to match him to, or even how to do it. But I’m not complaining too much; the longer he doesn’t get matched, the longer he gets to come in to the store every week, and I get to stare at him.

     “So, Pattycakes,” (That’s what he calls me) “Any leads for me?”

     “Sorry, Pete. You know, if you’d give me a little more information about yourself, I might be able to match you with someone quicker.”

     “True. But every relationship needs a little mystery, don’t you think? I mean, if you know everything, then there’s nothing to find out later.”

     “Yea, but I’m not asking for your life story, just a few tidbits.”

     “That’s the problem: if I start telling you, I’d never shut up until you knew everything about me. So, for now, mysterious Pete it is. But hey, maybe I’ll still tell you everything after you _finally_ match me with someone.” Pete winked at me then walked away.

     I watched Pete walk away. I’m going to be really disappointed when I won’t see him as often. Maybe I’ll hold off one telling him about his match once I find whoever it may be, just to have him come in a few more times. I focused back on the job at hand while also wondering how to match someone who doesn’t have a favorite drink.

\----------------------------------------------------

     A few more weeks passed, and I still had no idea how to match Pete. Another Cupid night was about to start in 20 minutes, and I still had nothing to tell him. Strangely enough, Pete was nowhere to be found. He was always in a half hour before we start.

     “Yo, Rick, check it out.” Joe stopped me and pointed out the large window in the front of the store. “Isn’t that Pete outside? Kissing some tall dude?”

     “No, it can’t be…” I turned my head and looked anyway. There he was; Pete was kissing some really tall, good-looking guy. They finally came up for air, Pete waved goodbye and walked in.

     “Hey, Pattycakes. Got any leads for me?”

     I shook my head and crinkled my face as the wheels in my head were turning. I’d always seen him leaving with women.

     “Honestly, Pete, it looks like you don’t need me. I mean, you were _just_ out on the sidewalk kissing some dude.”

     “Oh, yea. That. Gabe’s an ex; we’re still pretty close, though.”

     “Well, obviously. You… wait. You… you like guys?”

     Pete blinked a few times at me before answering. “Well, yea. Girls too. Why do you think I didn’t mark a box on my card? Checking both would have been confusing. Like, I dunno. Like, I accidently checked the wrong box, or something.”

     “So, you like guys?”

     Pete chuckled softly and leaned in close before flashing a dazzling, white smile that was too big for his face and reached his ears. “Yep. Hope that helps.”

     Cupid night flew by while I processed this new information about Pete. He liked guys. He kissed guys. He probably even… I needed to stop thinking about that. My pants were already tight enough. After I had the last Cupid customer’s information typed in, Joe came over and knelt down by me as I stared at Pete waving goodbye and leaving with yet another woman.

     “You know,” Joe said, interrupting my train of thoughts. “I think Pete really needs some stability in his life. I think maybe normal, or even boring, would do the guy some good.”

      That caught my attention. I finally looked down at my friend. “Boring?” I asked.

     Joe grinned at me. “Yea, dude. Boring.”

     I thought about it for a moment. It all clicked and finally made sense in my head. Joe was right. Opposites! Unpredictable and predictable; Entertaining and boring; Black and colorful; yin and yang. Pete needed an opposite, a _boring_ opposite. Pete needed me. Pete and I were a perfect match!

     “Finally, you got it! I was starting to feel nauseous from all the goo-goo eyes you two have been making at each other for the last few months. I mean, I’m not the Coffee Cupid here, but if two people like each other that much, shouldn’t they go for it anyway? Even if the coffee doesn’t say so?”

     I slowly blinked at him and started to blush.

     “Yea, dude. You’re that obvious. So, when are you going to tell him that you found his match?”

     I crinkled my eyebrows in concentration while stammering out monosyllabic gibberish.

     “Listen, Patrick, if you hurry, I think you can still catch him. Don’t worry, I’ll cover for you.”

     I beamed at Joe, took off my apron, and threw it at him as I jumped up and ran out the door, running in the direction Pete always headed. I didn’t have to go far, about half a block, before I quite literally ran into Pete. He’d been leaning up against the side of the brick building, his right foot propped up against the wall, looking at his watch. He looked up just in time to stop me from knocking us both over. He caught me in his arms and beamed down at me.

     “Falling for me, ‘ey, Stump?”

     I blinked at him a few times, trying to let my brain catch up with the current situation.

     “Listen, it was a joke, dude. So, what’s up? How can I…”

     I pushed up and crashed my lips into Pete’s. He smiled.

     “Finally,” he sighed and kissed me back while he helped me get stable on my feet.

     I pulled back and asked, “Finally?”

     “Yea. I have been trying to get your attention by making you jealous for months, Pattycakes. And when my leaving with a bunch of different females didn’t work, females who happen to be good friends of mine that I planted in the coffee shop with the express purpose of making you jealous, I tried a different approach. I figured that kissing a guy would be a better way to fully grab your attention. And look! It worked. I need to remember to thank Gabe for helping with that.”

     “So you’ve been doing this,” I waved my hands dramatically at the wall. “For months? To make me jealous?”

     Pete grinned again and nodded.

     “Why not just tell me that you were interested?”

     Pete shrugged and nonchalantly said, “It was more fun to make you want me.”

     “If you made me do all this to tell you that I like you, then you’d better have one hell of an epic first date planned,” I said and only half-playfully punched his shoulder before I kissed his cheek.

     Pete smiled and nodded.

     “Well, duh, Pattycakes. What else do you think I’ve been doing while I’ve been waiting for you to chase after me?”

     “Well, not that…” I admitted.

     “Well, it is. Our first date will be filled with dinner, moshing, and a stroll down Lake Shore where I will profess my undying attraction to you and tell you how much I am in like with you.”

     “You just spoiled it,” I said, adding a small pout for effect.

     Pete leaned in close until our lips were brushing against each other. “Oh, not even close, Pattycakes. Not. Even. Close. Just you wait and see.”

 

Fin

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimers apply:
> 
> I do not know, nor own, Fall out Boy, its members, nor any of the other bands/band members referenced within this story. I did not make any money from this publication. I just really love writing about band members.
> 
> Also, I do not own The Espressologist, nor Kristina Springer. No copyright infringement (if any lies within) was intended.


End file.
